35. Epilogue
3 Months Later
Ridge
T he gentle whisper of Emma’s breath against my neck sends a shiver down my spine, despite the cocoon of warmth we’ve created beneath the covers. Outside, a blanket of snow muffles the world, but here, in our bed, time seems to stand still. Three months have passed since Emma moved in, and each day feels like a gift I never knew I needed.
I carefully untangle myself from her embrace, my skin instantly missing her touch. The hardwood floor is cold beneath my feet as I pull on my sweatpants and sweater, casting one last glance at Emma’s sleeping form before padding downstairs.
The kitchen is bathed in the soft, gray light of a winter morning. As I gather ingredients for Emma’s birthday breakfast, the weight of the small velvet box in my pocket seems to grow heavier with each passing moment. Pancakes – her favorite. The familiar motions of measuring and mixing soothe my nerves, a welcome distraction from the butterflies in my stomach.
As I whisk the batter, my mind wanders to the journey that brought us here. From that first day when Emma stumbled into my life, quite literally, with a plate of her mother’s pancakes, to this moment – on the cusp of asking her to be my wife. It seems both an eternity and a heartbeat.
Lily and Avery’s excited voices echo in my mind. “You have to propose on her birthday, Daddy! She loves her birthday! It’ll be so romantic!” The memory brings a smile to my face, even as my heart races at the thought. My girls, always plotting and planning, their enthusiasm for Emma a constant source of joy.
I remember the day I told them about my plans to propose. Lily had squealed with delight, already planning the wedding in her head. Cody, ever the quiet one, had simply nodded and said, “She makes you happy, Dad. That’s good.” And little Avery, too young to fully understand, had clapped her hands and demanded to be the flower girl.
The doorbell’s shrill ring cuts through the quiet, and I hurry to answer it before it wakes the entire house. James stands on the porch, a to-go cup of nitro cold brew clutched in his gloved hand, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air.
“Next time, get it yourself,” he grumbles, thrusting the coffee at me. His nose is red from the cold, his scowl deepening as he checks his watch. “Now I’m going to be late to teach the last class of the semester.”
I can’t help but chuckle at his expression, so reminiscent of when we were kids and I’d drag him into my schemes. “Thanks for this, little bro,” I say, accepting the cup. The rich aroma of the coffee wafts up, a promise of the caffeine boost Emma will need. “I’m sure your students will be very happy that they have to look at your ugly face a little less.”
“Fuck you,” James retorts, but there’s no real heat behind his words. A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips before he turns on his heel, leaving me to watch as his car disappears down the snow-covered driveway.
As I close the door, I’m hit with a wave of gratitude for my brother. Despite his gruff exterior, James has been my rock through everything – the divorce, becoming a single dad, and now, falling in love again. He was the first person I told about my plans to propose, and his response had been typically James: “About damn time. Now stop overthinking it and just ask her already.”
Back in the kitchen, I layer the pancakes with Biscoff spread, creating a tower worthy of Emma’s sweet tooth. A single candle crowns the stack, waiting to be lit. But first, I need to make sure Emma’s decent – Lily has a habit of bursting into our room unannounced, especially on special occasions.
I take the stairs two at a time, slipping back into our bedroom. Emma’s curled on her side, the covers tangled around her bare legs. My breath catches at the sight of her, vulnerable and beautiful in the soft morning light. Her hair fans out on the pillow, a halo of chestnut waves, and I’m struck once again by how lucky I am.
“Em,” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. My fingers linger on her cheek, savouring the warmth of her skin. “Time to wake up, birthday girl.”
Her eyelids flutter, a sleepy smile curving her lips. “Five more minutes,” she mumbles, burrowing deeper into the pillow.
I chuckle, dropping a kiss on her forehead. The scent of her shampoo – lavender and vanilla – fills my senses. “Lily will be in here any second. You might want to put some clothes on.”
Emma’s eyes snap open, sudden awareness chasing away the last vestiges of sleep. She sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest, and I can’t help but admire the way it clings to her curves.
“Shit,” she mutters, fumbling for the oversize t-shirt draped over the headboard. It’s one of mine, worn and soft with age. “Thanks for the warning.”
I help her slip the shirt over her head, my fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long on her skin. Emma’s eyes meet mine, a spark of heat igniting between us. The air feels charged, electric with possibility.
“Later,” she promises, her voice husky. Her hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb tracing my stubbled jaw. “After cake and presents.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “I’ll head back down and finish breakfast. Try to act surprised when Lily barges in, okay?”
Emma’s laughter follows me out of the room, a melody that fills my heart to bursting. As I descend the stairs, I pat my pocket, feeling the outline of the ring box. Today is the day I ask Emma to be my forever. The thought both terrifies and exhilarates me, much like falling in love with her did. But as I reach the kitchen and hear the patter of little feet upstairs, I know with absolute certainty that this is right. This is home.
I’ve barely finished arranging the breakfast tray when I hear the telltale giggling and shushing from the hallway. Lily appears in the doorway, her eyes bright with excitement, Cody and Avery close behind.
“Is it time, Daddy?” Lily stage-whispers, practically vibrating with anticipation.
I nod, unable to keep the grin off my face. “Remember, let Emma blow out the candle before you start singing, okay?”
They nod solemnly, though I can see Avery’s little lips already forming the words of “Happy Birthday.” I light the candle on the stack of pancakes, and we begin our procession up the stairs.
As we near our bedroom door, I can hear Emma moving around inside, no doubt trying to make herself presentable. I give a soft knock before pushing the door open.
“Happy birthday!” we all chorus as we enter. Emma is sitting up in bed, her hair hastily pulled back, wearing my old t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts she must have found. Her eyes widen at the sight of us, and I have to hand it to her – she really does look surprised.
“Oh my goodness,” she gasps, a hand flying to her chest. “You guys, this is amazing!”
Lily can’t contain herself any longer. She launches into “Happy Birthday,” her voice ringing out clear and strong. Cody and Avery join in, their voices a sweet counterpoint to their sister’s enthusiasm. I set the tray across Emma’s lap as the song finishes, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek.
“Make a wish,” I murmur, nodding towards the flickering candle.
Emma closes her eyes for a moment, her face serene, before leaning forward to blow out the candle. The kids cheer, and Emma laughs, the sound pure joy.
“Thank you all so much,” she says, her eyes misty. “This is the best birthday ever.”
Lily and Avery climb onto the bed, snuggling up to Emma’s side. “We made you cards too!” she announces proudly. “Can we give them to her now, Daddy?”
I nod, and the kids present their homemade cards with great ceremony. Emma oohs and aahs over each one, praising their artwork and reading aloud the heartfelt messages inside. As I watch her interact with my children – our children, really – I feel a lump form in my throat. This is everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I never thought I’d have again after Melissa left.
Once the excitement of the cards has died down, I shoo the kids out of the room. “Let’s let Emma enjoy her breakfast in peace,” I tell them. “We’ll do presents later, okay?”
They file out, albeit reluctantly, and I turn back to Emma. She’s already digging into the pancakes, a smear of Biscoff spread on her chin. I chuckle, reaching out to wipe it away with my thumb.
“Good?” I ask, already knowing the answer from the blissful expression on her face.
She nods enthusiastically, swallowing before speaking. “Amazing. You spoil me, Ridge.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, watching her eat. “You deserve to be spoiled, Em. Especially today.”
She sets down her fork, reaching out to take my hand. “Thank you for this. For everything. I never thought I’d have this kind of life, you know? A family, a home… love like this.”
The earnestness in her voice, the vulnerability in her eyes, it nearly undoes me. I lean in, capturing her lips in a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you, little flower. More than I ever thought possible.”
She smiles against my lips. “I love you too, Ridge McCords. Now, are you going to let me finish these pancakes, or do I need to kick you out too?”
I laugh, standing up. “Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted. Enjoy your breakfast, birthday girl. I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”
As I close the bedroom door behind me, I take a deep breath. The weight of the ring box in my pocket is a constant reminder of what’s to come. But first, we have a birthday to celebrate.
The rest of the morning passes in a blur of wrapping paper, excited squeals, and more sugar than is probably advisable before noon. Emma is radiant, her joy infectious as she opens each gift. From Lily, a handmade scrapbook filled with photos and mementoes of our time together. From Cody, a set of rare tea blends he’d sourced with James’s help. Avery presents her with a lumpy, misshapen clay pot she’d made at preschool, proudly declaring it perfect for growing “Emma’s special flowers.”
My gift is last – a delicate gold necklace with a small, heart-shaped pendant. As I fasten it around her neck, my fingers brush against her skin, and I feel her shiver.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, touching the pendant reverently.
“Not as beautiful as you,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck.
The moment is broken by Lily’s excited voice. “Can we have cake now? Please?”
Emma laughs, turning to face the kids. “Cake for lunch? I don’t know…”
“Please?” chorus three voices, accompanied by what I can only describe as professional-grade puppy dog eyes.
“Oh, alright,” Emma relents, her eyes twinkling. “But just this once, because it’s my birthday.”
As we gather around the kitchen table, Emma at the head with a chocolate cake blazing with candles before her, I’m struck by how right this feels. How seamlessly Emma has woven herself into the fabric of our lives, filling gaps I didn’t even know existed.
We sing “Happy Birthday” again, this time with more gusto (and slightly off-key harmonies from Avery). As Emma leans forward to blow out the candles, her face aglow in the flickering light, I know that the time has come.
“Wait,” I say, just as she’s about to extinguish the flames. All eyes turn to me, confusion evident on their faces. “Before you make a wish, I have something I want to say.”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. This is it. No turning back now.
“Emma Harrison” I begin, my voice surprisingly steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. “From the moment you stumbled into my life with a plate of your mother’s pancakes, you’ve turned my world upside down in the best possible way.”
Emma’s eyes widen. Lily lets out a tiny squeal but quickly claps her hands over her mouth.
I continue, the words flowing now, straight from my heart. “You’ve brought light and laughter back into this house. You’ve loved my children as if they were your own. You’ve made me believe in second chances and happily ever afters.”
I reach into my pocket, withdrawing the small velvet box. Emma’s hand flies to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.
“I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” I say, sinking to one knee beside her chair. “And I don’t want to. Emma, will you marry me? Will you be my wife, my partner, the mother to our children?”
I open the box, revealing the ring – a vintage-inspired piece with a cushion-cut diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller stones. It had belonged to my grandmother, and the moment I’d seen it, I’d known it was meant for Emma.
For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen is the soft crackle of the candles and Emma’s shaky breath. Then, with tears streaming down her face, she nods.
“Yes,” she whispers, then louder, “Yes! Of course, yes!”
The kitchen erupts in cheers as I slide the ring onto Emma’s finger. It fits perfectly as if it was always meant to be there. I stand, pulling Emma into my arms and kissing her deeply, pouring all my love and joy into the embrace.
When we finally part, both a little breathless, we’re surrounded by the kids. Lily is bouncing up and down, her excitement palpable. Cody has a rare, wide smile on his face. And little Avery is tugging on Emma’s shirt, asking, “Does this mean you’re our real mommy now?”
Emma kneels, gathering Avery into her arms. “Sweetheart, I’ve been your real mommy in my heart for a long time now. This just makes it official.”
As I watch Emma hug each of the kids in turn, reassuring them and answering their eager questions, I feel a sense of completeness I’ve never known before. This is my family – messy, imperfect, and absolutely perfect.
The cake sits forgotten on the table, its candles now little more than puddles of wax. But it doesn’t matter. We have something far sweeter to celebrate.
Later that night, after the kids have finally gone to bed (though I suspect Lily is still awake, too excited to sleep), Emma and I curl up on the porch swing. The night is clear and cold, stars twinkling overhead like diamonds scattered on black velvet.
Emma’s head rests on my shoulder, her left hand intertwined with mine. The ring catches the soft light from the porch, sending little rainbows dancing across our entwined fingers.
“Happy birthday, Mrs. McCords-to-be,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
She laughs softly, the sound music to my ears. “Best birthday ever.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence and the quiet of the night. Then Emma speaks, her voice thoughtful.
“You know, when I first came here, I never imagined this is where I’d end up. I was just trying to help out at the vineyard, maybe figure out what I wanted to do with my life.”
I squeeze her hand gently, encouraging her to continue.
“But then I met you, and the kids, and… it was like coming home. Like I finally found where I belonged.” She lifts her head, meeting my gaze. “I love you, Ridge. You and the kids – you’re everything to me.”
I cup her face in my hands, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion I see in her eyes. “And you’re everything to us, Em. You’ve made us whole again.”
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The End
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